


Sharing Dreams

by AtomHeartBrother



Category: Iron Maiden
Genre: M/M, POV First Person, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-18
Updated: 2018-01-26
Packaged: 2019-03-09 21:19:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 10,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13489992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AtomHeartBrother/pseuds/AtomHeartBrother
Summary: Very early on in their shared history, Bruce and Steve are forced to share a bed...Written from Steve's POV.(re-upload from my rockfic account)





	1. Rest

“Whose idea was it to book just two fucking rooms?” Bruce groaned and finished his beer. He placed the bottle in front of the bed.

“Mine, I didn't expect Clive would take the whole other room.” I looked up from the papers, acting like I was reading something very important. It wasn't important, really. In reality I couldn't see the words clearly anymore because I was probably a bit drunker than Bruce and the others.

“Can you count? There's five of us, you booked rooms for four people!” Bruce yelled at me and sat down on the bed.

“I think... “ Adrian began, ”No, I know for sure that in Clive’s room there's an extra bed or a couch.”

“That's just great.” Bruce put down his shoes and returned his look from Davey and Ade who seemed to have zero complaints about the situation overall. They already laid under the small blanket on the other bed and looked completely content. On the other hand they must have been pretty tired already. From the gig and the drinking afterwards. Davey yawned and turned off their bedside lamp.

“Good night, Bruce,” Dave looked at the pouting singer, ”Good night, ‘arry.” He moved his gaze to me. 

Bruce didn't say anything in return and I just nodded. He had to climb over me to lay down, because I took up the edge of the bed. Then he settled right next to me on his back and looked at the ceiling light. I finished “reading” the page, turned off the light and then I joined him in studying the ceiling.

“This is going to be awkward.” I murmured as I laid down much in the way that wooden planks do. I was nervous. It wasn't like I never shared a bed before, but Bruce was new in the band and I didn't know him all that well yet. I wasn't sure what should I expect from him in this situation.

“Shh, don't wake Dave and Ade up.” Bruce glanced at me.

I looked at the guitarists on the other side of the room. They seemed very peaceful. They weren't really cuddling, but they might as well be in a few moments. It was certain that they shared a bed a lot of times before and were incredibly comfortable around each other.

“Why can't we be like them?” I said without thinking. It scared me with how much ease I said those words.

“What? Oh come on, it's not like we can't sleep like them.” Bruce looked at me again.

“I have nightmares, I'll karate kick you off the bed.” I said and smiled.

“Not if I do it first.” Bruce smiled back at me.

“Maybe I don't have to sleep today.” I said philosophically.

“That will make two of us.”

“You can't sleep? Why?”

“Firstly, you're still talking. Secondly, I can't sleep the first night in a new place.”

“How can you tour with that?” I asked curiously.

“I didn't do much touring before. I didn't know.” Bruce answered and scratched his head.

“Are you scared or do you just miss your mum?” I chuckled. 

Bruce elbowed me in the ribs. I returned the movement but Bruce blocked it and before we knew it, we had our arms tangled together. We then reduced the hold slightly so we just kind of awkwardly held each other's hands.

“I'm not exactly scared, I just can't sleep.” Bruce admitted, seemingly not moved by the situation.

“And do you think something could help you or is it incurable?” I smirked thinking that it was a good addition to what I've said.

“I don't know. Maybe it's going to be better since I have to share the stupid bed with you.” He chuckled.

I just smiled. I would hug him if it wasn't weird. Then I thought about Ade and Davey. They didn't look like it's a big deal for them, so why would Bruce (who seemed to be a very physical contact seeking person) have a problem with that?

“I'll try to not throw you on the floor.” I said as I moved onto my side and put my hand over Bruce.

“Okay, then I'll try to fall asleep.” Bruce said and patted my hand on his chest. Then he left it there. I could faintly feel his quickened breathing and how fast his heart beat. But I had to admit, although I wanted to be the one in charge and always cool, I wasn't in much different situation than Bruce.

“Steve?”

“What?”

“I need to move to my side.” He just said calmly.

“Sure,” I lifted my arm and let Bruce turn his back to me. Then he took my hand and put it over himself again. That was apparently a perfect position for us, the blanket covered us, we were both warm and I hoped this nice feeling will stay the whole time.

Throughout the night I woke up a few times just to find out that Bruce was still securely snuggled against me. The last time I woke up must have been about 8:30 and Bruce was still asleep while I was pretty much ready to get up and do something. Instead of shaking him awake I decided to wait till he wakes up by himself. 

From that day on I would unmistakably tell you how Bruce smelled. Well, he smelled like Bruce. It was this specific combination of the shampoo, deodorant and soap he used, and of course his own personal smell. It was as excitingly nice as the smell of old records and also as calming as the smell of the washing detergent you remember your mother using.

About an hour later I heard rustling of bed sheets. Bruce still laid calmly so I knew it was H or Davey. I decided that the best I could do is to lay still and pretend I'm asleep. That way they couldn't say a thing about how I held Bruce. I heard them whisper something and Davey’s giggles and then him leaving the room to shower, probably. Adrian just grunted and I was sure he tried to sleep again since he finally had the bed all for himself.

Bruce sighed softly and stretched a bit. I didn't really want him to wake up or to go away, but I had to act as if I did. I had to maintain my image in front of the others, hadn't I?


	2. Cold Water and Warm Hearts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After spending more time with Bruce, Steve is internally fighting himself, because he isn't sure of his feelings, or his actions for that matter.

The power supply switched off. We were left in the middle of nowhere in this small damp hotel and Bruce just decided to wash his stupid hair. It was some time before midnight and he shared a room with me, because last time he was with someone else he only caused trouble.

 

“Oh come on, Harry, I need to wash it, I can feel all the grease in it.” He pleaded and took my hand.

 

“Bloody hell Bruce, let me sleep.” I snapped at him, returning my hand under the pillow.

 

“I'll wash your hair next time.” He said and tugged at my blanket, almost tearing it.

 

“Fucking alright, I give up. Get your shampoo and some light.” I sat up and put my own hair in a bun, so it won't get wet. 

 

When I entered the bathroom it was the worst cliché I've ever seen. Candles everywhere and Bruce standing in the middle with just a towel around his waist. The only thing that was a bit off was the fact he looked more like a deer in the headlights and not all confident like he usually did.

 

“Is the water warm or do they have an electric boiler?” I asked just to be sure. 

 

“A boiler probably. It's not warm at all.”

 

“Well then, sit down here,” I pointed at the small carpet in front of the tub,” with your back against the bathtub. Bend your head backwards.” I ordered. He did as I said. 

 

I let the water stream over my hand. It was very cold and I was hesitant to pour it over Bruce's head.

 

“It's really fucking cold, don't scream.” I said as I slowly soaked the ends of his hair in the water.

 

“Don't we want to wake our neighbours up?” He grinned. 

 

I closed his mouth as I put my hand under his chin and moved his head slightly more back. He sat on his knees and I finally noticed he wasn't completely naked under that towel. He actually left his underwear on and had his hands in his lap. So he really wasn't that much of an exhibitionist as I had thought before.

 

When his hair was completely wet I got the shampoo bottle and opened it, squeezed some of the shampoo on my hand and began to massage his head. It felt a bit like washing a dog. Bruce closed his eyes and it was for sure he enjoyed this. I also did to be honest. It's always been somehow better between the two of us when we haven't had to speak. Bruce was an expert on touching, though. It was true he liked to talk a lot, but he was overall an expressive person. I, on the other hand, not so much. I bottled everything up. The only time I spoke my mind was when I complained or explained while rehearsing and when I've had to prove our band was worthy of getting a gig somewhere.

 

Bruce seemed like he started to fall asleep.

 

“Wake up, you idiot, you'll drown.” I pushed him a little. It also worked as a bit of a reassurance for my straightness. I tried imagining anyone else in this situation and failed to recognize it as something two straight guys would do.

 

“I can't help it when you're doing that.” He frowned at me and gestured towards his ear. I must have unintentionally scratched him behind it. Great, now I feel even more... how to put it? Maybe like I would like to forget these moments so no one could ever ask me about them.

 

“This?” I moved my hands behind his ears, despite my instincts telling me to send Bruce to hell already.

 

“Yeah.” He purred. 

 

I chuckled but didn't cease to massage that spot. 

 

“Shut up, I bet you also have random places that feel good.”

 

“I do.” I admitted. I knew Bruce would be curious where, and most likely would try to find out, but I won't ever let him. I will never allow any other guy to touch me where it feels good.

 

Bruce sneezed.

 

“Bless you.” I answered automatically. I washed the soap off my hands first and then slowly began to wash it off Bruce's hair. When I turned the water off he handed me the towel and then quickly put his hands back over his crotch. Was he aroused? I had to smirk at the thought. Not that I would take any advantage of that, but at least we were now somehow even. If I felt less straight thanks to what we've been doing, then it was fair he also did. 

I left the towel on his head and got up. I wanted to leave the room but something made me turn my sight back to Bruce. He still sat on the carpet and slowly dried his hair with the towel.

 

Even though I didn't really know Bruce for that long, I sensed something was wrong. Something has happened and he wasn't feeling alright. I was unsure if I should ask him about it. 

 

“If you sit on the floor you'll get cold. Let's go to bed.” I said instead and helped him up. On our way we put out some candles, but we also brought a few to the bedroom.

 

We sat down on his bed and I helped him to dry his hair. 

 

“Thanks.” He said and bit his lip.

 

I wanted to know what's wrong. Was he nervous about his boner? Unlikely. He got hard pretty often, so did I. Random boners just happen. What was it then?

 

“Is something wrong?” I asked when I gained enough confidence.

 

He was definitely caught off guard. He didn't answer at first and even avoided my sight, but after a moment he breathed in and begun.

 

“It's just the touring, gigs every other night. You know, all the stress that comes with it. And when we don't get along it gets even worse. I know I sound whiny, but that’s just how I feel.” He said while running his hands through his hair.

 

“I get what you mean.” I answered and begun to feel somewhat guilty. I had an inner fight between my need to act hyper masculine and between my heart. I knew how Bruce felt and I didn't want him to feel bad. After all it affected the whole band.

 

I slowly moved closer towards him and wrapped my arms around his shoulders. He hugged me back and pulled me down with him as he lied on the bed. In this horizontal state I couldn't keep my eyes open for much longer. Still, I tired.

 

“If you want to talk, I can listen till I fall asleep,” I offered.

 

“I don't know what to talk about. What do you want to hear?” He asked as I laid on my back with my head on his chest. I stopped listening to my inner voice. I knew well that Bruce did always seek physical contact so I let him have just that.

 

“Tell me more about airplanes.” I said. It was the first thing that came to my mind.

 

He started talking about different types of engines and how planes were used in war and he probably subconsciously moved his hands to my hair and caressed it slowly. I mean it wasn't uncomfortable, but I wanted to be more drunk next time I spend time with him so I could blame it on the alcohol, I guess. 

 

Overall this was such a soothing situation. I still asked myself why did I let him do this, why wasn't I pushing him away. I thought maybe it's for the sake of the band, but was it really? My thoughts slowly dissolved and mixed together with Bruce's now soothing and calming voice until I fell asleep.


	3. Changes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The more they drink, the closer they are... and the less Steve remembers...

We sat in a storage room on a carpet, some of us were drinking and there was a hookah in the middle. There was just tobacco in it. And to be honest it tasted like shit, but still, I tried it. After a while I suspected it wasn't just tobacco, but I couldn't really care. I just decided to go outside and walk for a bit till I feel better. 

 

“Harry!” I bumped into Bruce on my way out.

 

“Sorry. I just need some fresh air.” I told him and walked past him.

 

“I'll go with you.” He took my sleeve and followed me outside.

 

I leant onto a trash can and concentrated on my breathing. The tobacco burned in the back of my throat and I was thinking about going back for my beer. I didn't quite want to go back there, though. Sending Bruce back was also out of the question.

 

“Are you okay?” Bruce asked and sat on the trash can next to me.

 

“Probably. I just need something to drink.” I answered and shivered, because I forgot my jacket in there.

 

“I'll bring you your beer,” Bruce said, jumped down and before he disappeared inside he added: “And your jacket.”

 

It could be about two minutes before he came back. That was a fucking miracle. Usually you would send him somewhere and he would stop there and talk with people for at least half an hour.

 

“Here you go.” He handed me my bottle and put the leather jacket over my shoulders.

 

“Thanks.” I said and sat down on the pavement. I felt slightly better. The contents of the hookah probably were just the tobacco as I was first told. Still, I was drunk enough to feel a bit wobbly.

 

Bruce seated himself next to me on the pavement and opened his beer can.

 

“You are not very used to smoking, are you?” He asked looking up at the dark sky.

 

“No, I never really smoked. I mean, I tried it once or twice. I was kinda tempted to try the hookah, though.”

 

“I noticed you never leave the studio for a smoke, when we’re recording, but I originally thought you're that much of a workaholic.” Bruce laughed.

 

I just smiled at him and finally gulped down the rest of my beer.

 

“It's normal if you feel a bit dizzy now,” he looked into the distance as he circled with his beer can, ”I mean after smoking.” He added before he got up.

 

“Good to know. Are you going back inside?” I asked. I didn't want him to leave me alone yet.

 

“No, I'm going to get a few more beers and I'll bring them here.” He waved in the direction of the motel lobby. I could clearly see him disappear inside from where I sat. 

 

He brought back a six pack. I don't even remember how fast we drank them. We talked about anything and everything and for a while I felt like all of our rows have been so unnecessary. Because it seemed like we understood each other. Maybe even on the same level as Davey and Adrian did.

 

“Do you wanna go swimming?” Bruce suddenly asked.

 

“What?” I laughed.

 

“There's a pool next to the motel. Do you wanna go there?”

 

I was slowly losing my rational thinking. I kinda wanted to go swimming, so I agreed.

 

For a while we just soaked our feet in the water. It wasn't exactly cold, but I doubted we should swim in it. That was until Bruce started undressing. I didn't want to watch him, but I couldn't keep my eyes off him. If I was more sober in that moment, I would hate myself for it even more. 

 

After a while I got up and put my jacket down. I looked around nervously. I didn't see anyone, so I also undressed. Bruce was already in the pool. He smiled at me as I jumped into the water.

 

“It's fucking cold. Why did we do this.” I shivered.

 

“Swim around for a bit, you'll get warmer.” Bruce said and swam to the other side of the pool. I followed him there.

 

Everything that happened after that was kinda blurry when I tried remembering it later. There were also a few missing moments. I'm sure we stayed in the pool for a pretty long time. Then we dressed and went to our rooms through the lobby. I remember that was one of the first times Bruce hugged me. He was still wet from the pool and smelled faintly of chlorine, but he emitted certain calmness and warmth. It was the same one I felt when I once hugged him after a show. He probably invited me to share the bed with him, because I woke up there the next day. But the feeling, the nice fuzzy feeling, stayed with me the whole time, till we had to get up.


	4. Sleeplessness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve's worried Bruce is mad at him because of a minor row they had, but he soon sees it's nothing like that...

It wasn't the first time I shared a room only with Bruce, but still, we weren't really doing that on monthly or daily basis. This time we ended up sleeping in one bed again. And although his presence was nice and it's always helped me fall asleep before, tonight it was different. 

 

I felt bad because I've had a row with him when we went walking around the city earlier today. It's been a stupid row. We've just argued about what road we should take and when should we eat, but that was exactly why it burdened my mind now. When we disagreed about something regarding music it was always important, but that? Stupid. 

 

I got up and went to the bathroom. Took a piss, washed my hands and face and went back. For a while I looked at Bruce's peaceful silhouette in the bed. It was such a rare sight I wanted to memorize it forever. Then I walked over to the balcony and slowly opened the door so it wouldn't creak. I leaned on the railing and looked at the surroundings. Just old buildings, in some of them there were still lights on. It wasn't as loud outside as I expected it to be and so I left the door open.

 

After a while I sat down on the floor. I was glad I slept in pajamas today, because otherwise I would get cold soon.

 

I thought about Bruce - couldn't really help thinking about him half the time. He was becoming an important person to me. Almost like a friend and not just someone I played on the stage with.

 

“What the fuck, man? I was looking for you everywhere and you're here on the balcony?”

 

“Sorry.” I glanced up at Bruce who was standing in the doorway looking like he woke up five seconds ago. He probably did. He had just his pajama pants on and a blanket over his shoulders. 

 

“I thought you were sleeping in the bed. You scared me a bit.” Bruce sat down on the floor right next to me, because it was slightly cold that night after all. He probably didn't want to lose the warmth he still had from his bed.

 

“I can't sleep. I'm not tired yet.” I said.

 

“Do you need to run a fucking marathon to be tired? We walked about ten miles today, that's not a short distance, Harry.” Bruce tried to control his voice and not to yell at me.

 

“Well, something like that. I just can't sleep sometimes.” I didn't say the true reason. After all, I didn't want to seem like I overthink such stupid stuff.

 

“Do you want me to read you a fairytale or something then?” He said ironically.

 

I chuckled and tried to imagine Bruce reading something out loud to me. I would fall asleep to that. I liked his voice after all. And he's pretty much talked me to sleep once already.

 

“I'll punch you unconscious. That's what I'll do.” He slowly swung his fist at me.

 

“No,” I covered my face, laughing,” but you can stay here. I was getting lonely.” I smiled as Bruce laid his head down on my shoulder.

 

“If I fall asleep you have to carry me back to bed, though.” He threatened me, jokingly.

 

“Alright.” 

 

I felt better, now that Bruce found me and actually spoke to me. He didn't seem mad about the row we’ve had before and I begun to realise that it didn't really matter.

 

Suddenly, Bruce caressed my leg. I tensed up, because I didn't expect it. I wanted him to stop so I placed my own hand over his. 

 

“Your hand’s really cold.” Bruce mumbled and put his other hand over mine, so now he held it in-between his hands. They were warm, but smaller than mine. 

 

“Well, it is cold in here.” I answered quietly as I retreated my hand feeling somewhat ashamed. But Bruce climbed over my leg and sat down between my legs. I seriously hoped I won't get hard now. Then he put the blanket over both of us.

 

“Better?” He asked and tried to look at me over his shoulder.

 

“Yeah, thanks.” I said and wrapped my arms around his waist. Bruce put his hands over mine and caressed them with his thumbs. 

 

If we weren't alone I would throw a tantrum about how straight I am, but because I truly was tired and also beginning to be quite fond of Bruce's closeness, I just satisfactorily sighed and let him do his thing. As I finally started to fall asleep I hoped no one will find us like this in the morning. It would certainly raise some unwanted questions and probably also become a thing the others would tease us about even if we tried explaining it.


	5. Goodbyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Divorce is waiting for Steve and he still wasn't able to resolve his relationship with Bruce...

I woke up next to him. Even though I was well rested I wasn't feeling overall good. I still had to think about the upcoming divorce that was waiting for me when I come back home. I wanted everything to be alright, but at the same time I knew that divorce was the only way she could deal with me always being away on tour or working. I also wasn't sure if I still loved her, but losing this kind of certainty felt bad. As if I lost one of the few harbours I had left on this storming sea.

 

The other one was still in the bed next to me. I was afraid to admit that I needed him to comfort me now. I still felt as if showing these emotions would make me less trustworthy.

 

He turned in his sleep. It's been almost always me who woke up earlier. Probably because I was still nervous about someone finding out. This platonic bed sharing wouldn't seem so innocent to the tabloids after all. Bruce always managed to joke about it with them. I just said the truth. That we get on each other's nerves a lot. That's what they wanted to hear. Or at least it always seemed so.

 

I didn't want to wake him up, didn't want to burden his mind with my problems. I've almost told him about the divorce last week, but since then I couldn't find the right time to do so. Maybe I'm brave enough now?

 

I lightly touched his shoulder. He stretched a bit and tried to open his eyes. Then he smiled at me. A warm sleepy smile. I just had to smile too, even though I didn't feel like it.

 

“‘morning,” He purred.

 

“Morning.” I answered trying hard not to sound sad or annoyed.

 

“Did you sleep well?”

 

“Kind of...yeah.” I said and paused for a while, “I have to tell you something.”

 

“What is it?” He sounded a bit scared.

 

“It's just that... I'm divorcing my wife. I just wanted you to know.” I answered calmly.

 

“Oh, I'm so sorry.” He reached for my shoulder.

 

“It's probably for the better, though.”

 

“You don't love her? Was she bad to you?”

 

“I'm not sure, she didn't do anything bad to me. It's probably because of me. I'm always away, you know.”

 

“I don't think that's the problem.”

 

“What do you think it is, then?” I asked slightly irritated. I quite disliked when he acted like he's so above the things and like he knows everything.

 

He just looked into my eyes. I bit my lip and averted my sight. The feeling in my lower belly surfaced again. I didn't know what to answer. Maybe he meant that I take things too personally?

 

The tension was too much for me to take. I wanted to leave the bed, but Bruce pulled me back. I frowned at him.

 

He was still looking right into my eyes as he kept gripping my sleeve. I tried to relax. I felt my heart beat so quickly and I felt how I was losing my self-control and my cool.

 

“I don't even know. It doesn't matter.” He tried to brush it off, but he still had my attention. Then he let go of my tee shirt and folded his hands beneath his pillow again. I knew the expression he had on his face too well. He wasn't satisfied with what he told me.

 

“It does. Answer me, Bruce.” I urged.

 

“You just care too much about things and people.” He snapped back at me and turned his back to me. I didn't get it. Either he was still half asleep and couldn't articulate what he meant, or I was becoming dumb. It was still uncertain what he wanted to say. He evidently didn't say everything he wanted to and I wasn't able to read between the lines back then.

 

“Okay...” I said slowly and got up in the same manner. 

 

He didn't look at me for the rest of the morning. It wasn't surprising for the others. It's always been either all sunshine, giggles and fun, or sixteen cups of black coffee, bad weather and murder. Today's mood was the latter. At least between me and Bruce.

 

That day we didn't have to be around each other much, which was good. In the evening I went to drink with some other people, we watched football on the small TV in the pub and then I went back to the hotel. When the night came along, though, I was unsure if I should share the room with Bruce again. I kind of wanted to, but was he in a mood for it?

 

I knocked on the door.

 

No response.

 

I knocked again.

 

Nothing.

 

“Open the door, Bruce, please.” I knocked for the third time. If he didn't answer I would walk away.

 

“I know it's you, Harry.” He paused and probably walked closer to the door, “ I'll let you inside, just give me a minute.” 

 

He really did open the door after a few moments. His hair was ruffled and his cheeks were red. Did he have someone over? Did I interrupt them?

 

As I entered the room I found out there was no one except Bruce. I was of course interested in why he looked like that, but I didn't ask, because it wasn't exactly appropriate. I just sat on the bed and put my shoes down. He suddenly crouched down in front of me and put his hands on my knees for stability.

 

“I'm sorry I didn't let you in sooner.” He spoke and I immediately knew that he's been drinking. Maybe even more than me.

 

“That's alright.” I swallowed.

 

He looked up at me with his big brown eyes. I damned my drunken mind, I tried to control myself, but just couldn't stop it. I straightened his bangs and “accidentally” caressed his cheek a bit. He just shyly smiled at me. I got goosebumps on my back as he kneeled and moved so he had his head on the same level as mine. He put his left hand on my shoulder. I knew what this behaviour was. Apologising. We would never find the words or maybe enough self denial to apologise verbally. 

 

“If you promise you won't ever tell anyone about what I do next, close your eyes.” He said and although my rational mind wanted to resist, the alcohol was doing its thing and I closed my eyes.

 

I could feel my heartbeat up in my throat and my mouth was suddenly dry. I didn't dare to think about all the possibilities I’d just given to Bruce. I clutched the bed sheet to keep me from feeling even worse.

 

He put one of his hands over mine and caressed it soothingly. 

 

“I just want to make you feel better.” He spoke again. And moved both of his hands to my thighs.

 

I felt tension in my chest muscles and maybe even lower, as if my stomach was somehow constricted. I was convinced I didn't like this situation at all. But why didn't I send him away, then?

 

“I have to open my eyes, Bruce. I can't...” I blinked a few times. He still kneeled on the floor in front of me, still looking up at me. 

 

Why did his lips appealed to me in that moment so much? Why did I want to make his cheeks red again? Why did I want to be the one who's messed his hair? It wasn't a nice feeling, this clash between the two sides of me. I knew which one was the good one - the one I should listen to, but what is for being nice without being bad sometimes? 

 

Before I could decide what side won this inner fight of mine, Bruce already took action. He cupped my cheek, but then he decided to nuzzle my neck instead. I could feel his hot breath on my skin. And then, after a few moments, as he softly placed his lips on mine I became convinced that I never ever want to talk about our alone time with anybody else. I felt how the feeling shifted from my belly to my throat. And it suddenly became a nice feeling. It was weird for me, why was Bruce so confident in this? How drunk was he to think that this was a good idea?

 

 

Everything would probably be alright if the next morning didn't happen. If he didn't try to greet me in such an affectionate way, if I didn't yell at him for doing so, if I didn't send him to hell, and if I've realized that this was exactly how I fucked everything up completely. 

 

I have to admit I still regret how I acted, because in the wider context, which I learnt much later, it became apparent that I could have been the reason Bruce stayed in the band, but instead I became one of the biggest reasons Bruce left after that tour.


	6. Insomnia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve's mind is filled with regrets and just one wish, which eventually does come true.

Many sleepless nights passed. Then there were a few I could get at least a couple of hours of sleep. It wasn't like I couldn't sleep. I was just scared of my dreams and most importantly of the thoughts that went on in my mind before falling asleep. They were the type of chains of thoughts you can't stop and they always ended up on one thing - one memory to be specific. That memory was the last morning I woke up next to Bruce.

I’ve said such terrible things to him I would rather forget them all, unbelievable slurs and bad words I didn't even know I was capable of saying out loud. I remember I’ve just yelled at him and then left the room. It was the only time he looked scared when I shouted at him. And I never wanted to see him this creeped out again. I wanted to take all these things back or to forget them forever. It just always made me angry - thinking why have I done what I've done and why have I said such mean things to him.

It took me quite a few years to get it. To get things straight. Or maybe not so straight in my case. If I understood what I felt towards Bruce earlier I would be having different kinds of problems now. Maybe I wouldn't be having any. Still, I felt that I should resolve it.

I was unsure whether I should call him, if he’s even going to answer the phone. I always picked my phone up, found his number, but before I dialled, I always overstressed myself. The voices in the back of my mind always stopped me from actually calling him. Well, Bruce was always better at these things and I persuaded myself, that if he wanted to talk to me, he would be the one to call first.

I slowly recovered from all the things that had happened. I still composed, it isn't like I will ever stop, but it just didn’t feel like back in the days with Bruce. There wasn’t this kind of opposing force, the one that always somehow made me do the songs better, the one which forced me to always improve what I’ve written, to compete against someone. What bugged me the most was that no one seemed to notice, except for Nicko.

The feelings of despair were sometimes coming back, especially when we weren’t on tour and when I had days off. I distracted myself with many things. Mostly football and playing bass. Then I started to invite Nicko over more often and we would chat about anything and everything. He really established himself as a really nice guy and a good friend then.

One day I've got a surprising call from Davey. He said Bruce called him earlier and wanted to meet me at some pub. I was kind of hesitant at first, but soon I found myself looking forward to it.

I arrived at the place we were supposed to meet and stood outside for a while. It was sometime after eight in the evening. There was no one around. Suddenly I heard a faint whistling from the other side of the street. From the melody I could make up that someone was whistling Fear of the Dark. I squinted to adjust my eyes to the darkness on the opposite pavement.

“Bruce?” I said, unsure if he heard me.

He crossed the street, his hands in the pockets of a questionable parka. He did smile, but I was unsure if it was sincere. But at least he seemed like he was as nervous as me.

“Uh, hi.” I tried to sound friendly. 

For the first time in six years I felt the excitement I've suppressed when I was younger. I wasn't able to talk much, I was very surprised that it came back. Almost paralyzed by it, I'd say.

“Hi.” He still smiled at me, “So, do you want to stand here in the cold or shall we go inside?”

I chuckled and went to the door and opened it for him. We sat in the furthest corner and ordered two beers. After two quick glances at the other tables I noticed that Davey was sitting there with some other guys too. Probably just supervising Bruce. Or maybe me.

“So, why did you want to meet?” I asked, clinked the beer, that the waiter just brought, against Bruce's bottle and took a sip.

“Oh, you know, I thought we didn't talk for a long time. I wanted to know how you are and such.” He avoided my gaze a bit.

“Well, family stuff is alright now, I guess. And you probably heard that Blaze’s leaving the band.” I said as these two were the first and probably most important things that came to my mind, ”What about you?” I added with a certain hesitation.

“The usual things. Published a few albums... not much happened actually.” He laughed. He seemed like he knew already that Blaze’s going to leave, but didn't want me to notice.

About an hour passed, but I wasn't sure, I didn't look at my watch. Although, we didn't talk much, it was all only small talk kind of stuff, so it may have been a shorter time. Bruce was becoming seemingly bored and that meant he was also unable to sit still. So I suggested going outside. We paid and left. I looked if Dave would follow us. He didn't, he just met my gaze and smiled at me, as if he wished me luck.

“So, where are we headed now?” Bruce asked, putting the hood over his head as it started to rain.

“Maybe home already?” I smiled a bit.

“Well, bye, then.” He pouted, put hands in his pockets and started walking away.

“Bruce!” I stopped him by taking his arm, “I think you wanted to tell me something, back inside. What was it?” I asked even though I had no idea if it was true. Just a last shot in the dark, to try and make him say something else than ‘oh, the weather was nice yesterday’ or ‘did you see such and such football game?’.

“Um, well... Since Blaze left I wanted to ask if you're looking for a singer.” He said, lifted up on his tiptoes and swung back on his heels.

“You know someone?” I asked with a grin, hoping for the best.

“Well, he's standing right in front of you.” He smiled, opened his arms and shrugged.

“Well then, you have a job, I guess,” I smiled too, looked down at the pavement and then hesitantly went in for a hug. Surprisingly, he hugged me back. 

We both carried the stench of the pub and I didn't want to stand here like this for a long time, but before I released my hold we were able to have a short conversation. The only one that really beared some importance today.

“Bruce, I'm sorry I've been such an asshole.” I whispered.

“I'm no saint myself.” He responded quickly.

“You... You know what I mean.” I bit my lip.

He didn't answer right away, but eventually I heard a quiet: “Yes.” 

I didn't want to let go of him, because it was as if he would run away and never return. I felt that if I didn't have such a good control over my emotions I would start to cry. Not because I was particularly sad or relieved. It seemed to me I was feeling everything at once.

He patted my back as I let go of him, we agreed he'll call me the next day and we went opposite ways. Hopefully for the last time and not for long.


	7. Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve is nervous, because he has what he wanted—Bruce back in Maiden, but there's still one thing that keeps him awake at night...

I was hesitant about letting him back into my life, but the others seemed incredibly happy to have him back in the band. Don't get me wrong, I was happy too, but I felt that it will never be the same as it was before he left. I knew that it will definitely take some time to heal the wounds I made and I was uncertain if at least some of them started to fade over the time I didn't see him. I was prepared to make up for what I've done and I was ready to build the relationship over again.

Throughout the pre-tour rehearsals I could really see the gradual progress of Bruce's trust towards me coming back and the small differences in his behaviour. He also seemed to be physically closer and closer to me with every chat we had. With every little bit of personal information I shared he trusted me more again. And I was grateful for even that small of a change. But, wasn't I just imagining these? I did not know. And my own mind wasn't clear enough to decide.

I knew he still was closer with Janick, both mentally and usually even physically. But I understood that completely. It was a logical reaction to my previous behaviour. I felt that Janick was basically to him like Nicko was to me. Someone he could rely on in bad times. A friend. Or at least I still hoped so.

The tour started and it was incredibly hard for me to get back into the specific mindset you need to have to survive it. Most of the nights I didn't get enough sleep. I was probably a bit grumpy as a result. I felt we were becoming a bit too old for sleeping in the tourbus, but it seemed like no one except me had complaints.

That leg of the tour was long, too long to bear my thoughts, my feelings. I wanted to cry and yet I couldn't. What would the others think if they saw me crying? They would either think less of me, or be worried about me, which would probably be even worse. I didn’t need help. I never need help.

One morning I got up, went to the front of the bus to find Nicko sitting there by himself. He had a cup of coffee on the table and was reading some book. 

“Morning, Harry!” He smiled at me. 

“Morning.” I didn't want to smile. I was tired, my back hurt and my eyes stung. I slept, but every hour or so I woke up. I hated this, I always ended up sleeping at the weirdest places only because I wasn't able to sleep at night. I just had to think about deep things in the dark almost-silence of the bus.

I made myself a cup of tea, got a couple of Digestives from the cupboard and, and sat opposite to Nicko.

“You seem like you fought a lion in your sleep.” Nicko grinned.

He might’ve meant my bed hair... But in that case I probably looked more like that homeless man on the Aqualung album.

“That's the look I've been aiming for.” I responded, sounding more grumpy than I originally intended to.

“Why couldn't you sleep?” He asked as if he sensed I was feeling low.

“Nightmares.”

“You should've woken me up, I'd help you.” 

“No, thanks, I can manage.” 

“Of course, you're the boss,” Nicko put the book aside.

“Nicko,” I gave him the look, but I actually felt a bit better, now that at least he seemed to care. Maybe if I could really open up to him I'd feel completely alright. But I don't trust anyone to that extent.

“What troubles your mind, young man?” He said in a funny voice.

“One person. Doesn't matter.”

“Aw, our bassist has fallen in love again,” Nicko teased me and put his hands under his chin like young girls do when you tell them you fancy someone.

“Shut up, Nick.” I frowned at him, but smiled the second after as I turned my head away.

“Tell me who is it? Did you tell them already?” He asked excitedly.

I took a bite of one of the digestives and washed it down with the tea. I thought that I shouldn't answer but as I stayed silent, many thoughts ran through my head and I ended up speaking out loud again.

“Nicko, don't you think it's better to just admire a person from afar than to act upon it and risk your whole life?”

“You wouldn't be risking your life if you told him,” Nicko said in a strangely serious tone.

I looked down at my tea and stirred it with a spoon. I became convinced Nicko knew well who still keeps me awake at night...well, he said “him”.

“I mean the only thing that could be a problem is that you won't be able to be affectionate with him in front of others,” Nicko continued looking far off to the distance, “But you know well how to keep the band and your personal life separate”.

“I'm not sure Nicko,” I said and bowed my head down so he wouldn't be able to see if I started crying. 

“To be honest with you, Steve, I saw how you look at Bruce and he looks at you the same way, when you turn away.” His rings and bracelets rattled as he placed his coffee back on the table, “It's the same as before he left. That something, you two had, is still there somewhere.”

“I'm just...” I couldn't say it out loud, I was a grown man, I shouldn't feel like this, ”I'm scared, Nicko.” I held the mug with both of my hands, trying to warm them up because they suddenly got cold.

“Look, tell him. Even if it doesn't work out, tell him. This just leads nowhere.” Nicko got up and left me alone in the bus.

I felt like a yesterday's crumb on the floor. I knew it was reasonable, what Nicko said, but still, I was unsure if I'm strong enough now. And if I ever will be. Hopefully things will resolve themselves and everything will end up the best it can.


	8. Returns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Without Nicko, the steps Steve takes would be too small...

I laid in my bed and couldn't sleep. He was still downstairs. I could hear him talk and I could smell Davey’s cigarettes. I bet Ade was also still there. I’ve gone upstairs because I hadn't really want to drink anymore, I felt I had just enough drinks for tonight.

A plane went over the house. Even that reminded me of him of course. Someone yelled his name and then the rest broke out into laugh. I just hoped he didn't do anything stupid. If I didn't feel like shit I would go back and drag him up here. 

It wasn't like a hangover or like being sad drunk. I wasn't really drunk anymore. I had this feeling for a pretty long time and I would probably describe it as a constant lowkey anxiety. It didn't have anything to do with the stuff that has been going on for the past two weeks on the tour. Or maybe it did. But then again it would have had it's beginning far in the past. Back in the days we were still careless and young and did stupid stuff and tried things we wouldn't do these days.

Now I waited for him to come upstairs. Back to me. But I knew he had his own room now and that there's no need to share it with me. I kept laying in my bed. I felt lonely. That was the most prominent feeling. Although he was back in the band it felt as if he was further from me than ever before. He had Janick. I wasn't exactly jealous, I was happy he was happy, but still I couldn't just cease to feel the sadness. Because it wasn't me he teased, it wasn't me he touched, and it wasn't me he kissed onstage yesterday. 

I have only ever told Nicko. I’ve told him everything that had went on in the early days and I’ve been telling him even now. I wasn't completely sure he won't open his mouth about it to anyone, but then again, Dave and Ade had been there most of the time. And it wasn't like they haven't seen anything or didn't make any connections. But thanks to Nicko I realized how much really Bruce mattered to me.

As I sat up on the bed I heard some fireworks going off nearby the hotel. I went up to the window to look at them when someone knocked on my door.

“Yeah?” I turned my head towards them.

“‘arry, it's me, Nicko.”

At least someone. He sounded worried. I quickly walked up to the door and opened them.

“I was thinking, maybe you'd like to go downstairs and talk with Bruce,” He spoke.

“Why?” I crossed my arms on my chest and leaned against the doorframe.

“He's in such a mood, well, I think it will be easier to talk with him now.”

“Is Janick there?”

“No, he bet on something with H and Davey and they left to the garden,” Nicko waved his hand in the direction of the hotel's garden.

“Okay, maybe I'll go down there, then.” I wanted to close the door, but Nicko didn't let me.

“‘Arry,” Nicko tilted his head, stuck his foot between the door and put his hands on his hips. He wasn't mad at me. He just played that he was.

“Fine, mum.” I forced a smile, rolled my eyes,took my key and followed him out of my room.

There was a couch in the lobby. It was also dark there but I could clearly see someone sitting in the corner of it. It must have been Bruce. Nicko walked away and left us alone. I moved forward nervously, but I still didn't speak up. I didn't want to attract his attention yet.

“Harry?” Bruce lifted his head.

“Yeah.” I sat next to him.

“I'm glad it's you.” He said and ran a hand through his short hair.

“Why are you sitting here? Did all the fun end already?” I asked and smiled a bit at him.

“Well, no, but I don't wanna be there for a while.”

“Did something happen?”

“Just Janick, well, he was making a fool of himself and dragged me along.”

“Aha,” I wasn't sure what to answer, because his response was so vague. And he usually liked to do stupid stuff with Jan.

“Steve?” He spoke after a while.

“Yes?” I looked into his eyes and then quickly away.

“I missed you.” He hugged me, then he crawled over to my lap and without letting go he just sat there. 

“I missed you too.” I caressed his back and breathed in his smell. It was still the same one. It was still unmistakably Bruce. The Bruce I knew for how much years now? It didn't matter.

“But I missed you more.” He moved away a bit and put his hands on my shoulders. 

I was starting to feel nervous because I knew that all the people who were in the restaurant had to go through a corridor next to the lobby if they wanted to go to their rooms. I didn't exactly want to be seen with Bruce sitting in my lap.

“Do you want to share a bed with me tonight?” I asked, thinking that was quite a brave move from me.

“Can I?” He slightly lifted himself off of me and began to get up.

“Sure. Just like when we were young.” I smiled at him. This time it was sincere.


	9. Old Bedfellows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Long talks in bed at night often lead to resolutions of complicated situations...

When I had him next to me in my bed it felt much better. But still not quite okay. Something felt off for some reason. Maybe we weren't so careless anymore, maybe we were too old for this. I chuckled. The name of that Jethro Tull album came up in the back of my mind.

I turned onto my side to face Bruce. His eyes were closed and his face was pretty peaceful, but i knew he wasn't asleep. I caressed his shoulder and then left my hand there. When he didn't react I moved it to his hair. I missed his long hair, but I had to admit this type of short hair looked good on him too.

As I was deep in my thoughts, he opened his eyes and smiled at me. I stopped. He caressed my cheek and booped my nose. A thing we never really did that often lately. I returned the movement and we laughed out loud. He really missed it, that was apparent. I wanted to ask Bruce about him and Janick, but as he spoke again I wasn't left any will to do so.

“Do you remember how we used to tease each other back when we were younger?” He said. I just looked into his eyes.

“Well, some of it.” I was afraid he would mention the morning I never wanted to even think about again. Ever.

“I suppose you'd like to hear about one time we got really bloody drunk and went swimming together. Had to ask Davey about it. I also didn't remember everything.”

“Do you mean that night we were at the motel and we swam in the pool and then... well, you're right I don't remember much after that,” I said. It was true, after the pool I could recall only some bits and pieces of memories. Why is he bringing it up now? Did tonight remind him of it somehow?

“So you remember that we were swimming naked?”

“I don't remember that.” I didn't even remember why we’d gone swimming in the first place.

“We were.”

“Why is it important? What happened back then?” I was getting impatient.

“Okay. It's not that important now. It's just that... It didn't happen just back then. It also happened a few other times over the years.”

“What happened?” I was beginning to feel nervous and very concerned. What the hell did I do? What did we do back then, that Bruce isn’t able to put it into a normal sentence?

“When you got drunk you got so much friendlier towards me. Sober you sometimes couldn't even look at me.” He said in such a way it made me feel really bad and embarrassed.

Still, why was he telling me now? Does this mean that all these years he was afraid I wasn't his true friend? To be honest I have felt like I was more than just his friend. He was the one always pushing the limits of our friendship further.

“Bruce,” I said, “ no matter what I said or did. You're important to me. You're so important...” I didn't know how to finish, as I felt the feeling of anxiety growing in my chest, so in the end I smiled lightly to assure him of my best intentions.

“Well, you weren't exactly one to show it.” He said with a kind of a selfish undertone.

“I know I'm not as... physical as you are.” I frowned a bit at that response.

“So what do you remember from that pool?”

“Why is it important?” I snapped at him.

“Because you kissed me, you idiot.” He pouted and averted his sight.

I tried to recall the memory. I still wasn't sure when it’s happened, but then, with a little help from Bruce, I finally remembered how it all went down...

###  
“Look, I'm a mermaid.” Bruce said and threw his hair back like in some L'Oréal commercial.

I laughed and swam closer to him. I made waves on the water with my arms and Bruce returned it. After a few moments I couldn't see through all the splashing water.

“Oh god, stop, Bruce!” I yelled and covered my face. To my surprise he really did. Then he moved closer to me.

“You're a pansy, Harry.” He said softly and put my hands away. 

He was so cute in that moonlight and all wet and naked. The alcohol was doing it’s thing by loosening all my defences and mental barriers. I didn't wait for anything and kissed him. He didn't even seem to be surprised, put his hands around my neck and kissed me back.   
I remember his lips were so soft and his face was a bit rough in contrast to it because his facial hair was coming in.

###

 

“I'm sorry I was so dumb.” Was the only thing I could tell him after I got the whole story. I also instinctively wiped the imaginary sweat off my forehead. I knew I purposefully forgot a lot of those memories, because they were embarrassing at that time. I always blamed it on the alcohol. I never thought that Bruce felt something towards me. And am I really interpreting this whole situation right?

There wasn't much to do now. So either I could fuck this whole thing up even more or I could actually make something right after some twenty years.

“It's fine,” Bruce whispered. He had his eyes closed as he was probably equally as embarrassed as I was. I caressed his shoulder softly again and whispered his name. When he opened his eyes I quickly put a small peck on his lips. 

He didn't yell. That was a good thing. He just processed what I just did. Soon he nervously moved his hand behind my neck and pulled me closer again. As our lips met I remembered that kiss in the pool even more vividly. Even though back then it must have been me who initiated it, somehow it felt the same. His lips soft and his face a bit rough. The kiss was slow, reassuring. It was like we aligned our whole personalities together again.

“You're a bloody idiot, Harry Harris.” He said when we parted, but contrary to his statement he smiled at me.

“I know.” I smiled too. I was worried about what do we do next, how we handle this whole situation in the long run, I wanted to talk about it, but again I was interrupted by Bruce.

“I think I can show you the song now, you'll understand it.” He said and got up to get his Walkman and headphones. 

“What song?” I impatiently sat up on the bed.

“You'll see.” He gave me the Walkman, put the headphones on my head and pressed play. He must have planned this, then. He sat down next to me with his hands crossed and an uncertain look on his face.

I concentrated on the text and it finally hit me. Either I was so blind all these years or Bruce didn't really drop any hints till now. When the song ended I immediately hugged him.

“It's beautiful. I'm so sorry, Bruce.” I held him tightly and stroked his back.

Bruce laid his head on my shoulder and nuzzled my neck. I was a bit afraid he was crying. When he looked up and met my gaze again I could see how his eyes lit up. Kissing him again, I could get to taste him finally. At first I wasn't even sure how to describe it. I focused more on the movements of his lips and his tongue than anything else, but after a while I came to the conclusion he just tasted nice. He tangled one of his hands in my hair and pulled it slightly. Maybe unintentionally. That was when I stopped - out of my nervousness.

“Did that hurt?” He asked, concerned.

I wasn't sure if it did. It felt good, though, so I told him it didn't. My hands found their way to his hips where I started to pull his pants down. He stopped me.

“I don't think now is a good time for that.” He said and caressed my arm.

“Okay, it's up to you.” I smiled before I kissed his cheek right under his eye.

It made him smile too and in return he kissed my forehead. Then we just laid down and snuggled close under the blanket and prepared to finally sleep.

“Last thing, how come Davey knew about the pool? Wasn't he smoking the hookah with the others?” I asked before either of us could close our eyes. 

Bruce just rolled his eyes at me. But I knew that this was the most innocent eye-roll in the history of our relationship.


End file.
